The Halla Who Cried Wolf
by Mizz Sara
Summary: "The magic of old must be preserved. No matter how feared." -Morrigan, Dragon Age: Inquisition Her hunger, her growing need to learn surpassed even his of the Fade. He was drawn to her, like a moth to flame, and he needed to know her, to study her with every fiber of his being because she was beautiful, and dangerous. She was the key to his plan, and he had no idea.
1. The Crows

I was fortunate to be favored among the crows. And not just for your sexual prowess, I thought. I was good with daggers, obeyed orders; sometimes, I corrected myself. I was persuasive, intimidating when I had to be and could sweet-talk my way into anyone's bed. Not to mention, I was very good at assassinating. Being a Crow wasn't as bad as I had half-expected, considering they didn't even bother prying into my past.

Master Ignacio had requested my presence, which would have normally shocked me, but I knew I was rising up in the ranks. I shook my head of bravado and slunk into the dim-lit corridor, trying to remember the directions the servant had given me. Take a left, then another left or was it right? I cursed silently as I blindly walked into another person as I turned the corner. Head down, I murmured an apology and stepped aside, scurrying past them down the hallway.

If Master Ignacio wasn't yelling at another recruit, I would have walked right past his office, and ended up lost. Thankfully, I caught fragments of the very one-sided conversation and the recruit whimpering and frowned slightly as I heard the shatter of whatever Master Ignacio had thrown at the recruit, and missed.

I raised her hand to knock on the door, but the door flew wide open, and a terrified recruit ran out, cursing. I chuckled as I strode in the room, nodding to Ignacio, who was peering over papers, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. I cleared my throat, "You called for me, ser?"

He looked up at me, relaxing his muscles and handed me a folded piece of parchment. "This assignment is top secret." I took the letter from his hand a little too eagerly, and broke open the seal. "Hence, why it was given directly to you and not through a messenger," He sighed, massaging his head in irritation, "Off you go then."

"Wait- ser," I said, but he waved his hand, ushering me off, and I stalked off, bemused. The letter was blank. With a groan, I slipped the letter into my sleeve and made my way to the courtyard to train the recruits.

I found Luc leaning against a beam, smirking at the two recruits that were thrown into a duel, lazily throwing punches at one another. "You're slacking, my friend." I retorted, watching as he straightened himself and eyed me with amusement. For a Crow, he was easy on judging the recruits when it came down to it.

"You become a Crow and suddenly you think you own the place," he snorted, and handed me a silverite dagger. "Why don't you teach them?" I gladly accepted, twirling the dagger in my hand with delight. "Well, recruit looks like it's your lucky day." He said, lifting the loser of the duel up off his ass, and pushing him back into the arena.

The recruit flickered between her playful eyes and the dagger I was toying with. "Now, when I throw this dagger, you don't move, not even to flinch. Understood?" I sneered and before the recruit could even object, I had aimed the dagger and thrown it at him.

Was the man daft? I had told him not to move when I threw the dagger, and still he stepped aside, letting it skim by him. I sighed, slipping out the dagger in my boot, and readied it once more. "Stay still," I demanded, gritting my teeth in anger. The recruit meekly nodded his head, and clenched his eyes shut as I flung another at him.

"Ah, nice work," Luc said, as the dagger met its target, and blood pooled from the recruit. "Now, recruits, the Crows do not accept failure. Understood?" He grinned mischievously as the recruits consecutively nodded their heads, "Off you go, now." He commanded and I tried to hold back laughter, and failed, as they walked away, shoulders down. "And this is why you were made a Crow."

"I believe I was made a Crow because I slit the other guys' throat first," I said, and he sniggered in response. "Or was that just faux?" I raised my eyebrows and followed him back to the barracks. "Where are we going?"

As we neared his room, he replied, "I'm hungry." and snuck a mischievous look towards me. I rolled my eyes at his comment, but still smiled anyways.

"Luc," I began, taking out the letter from her sleeve as he turned to her, frowning. "I have to pack," I waved the letter in front of his face, trying to conceal my excitement.

He swiped the letter from her hand, and opened it. "There's nothing here," he said, checking the back, and frowning once more.

I sighed rather loudly, "I know. Master Ignacio just handed it to me, with no explanation whatsoever."

He squinted at the parchment. I cocked my head as he chuckled, handing back the parchment. "Its sympathetic ink," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing and I ripped it out of his hand, scouring the parchment for any hint of the truth.

"I don't see anything," I frowned, turning the letter over, running my index finger over the page for any indentations. I looked over to Luc, who seemed amused at my ignorance.

"You miss the subtle things, Caillech. You always have." He motioned for me to follow him into his room, and I did, carefully stepping around the sleeping mabari by the foot of his bed, leaning against the bedframe. "Here," he handed me a small vial of clear liquid.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked, eyeing the vial.

"It will reveal to you what is on the letter. Now," he took me by the hand and led me towards the bed, "Perhaps I can get a reward?"

I scoffed at his insinuation and pulled away, almost stepping on the mabari. "Are all humans this pushy, or is it just you?"

"You know me best, dear," he purred, roughly pushing me against the stone wall, hands wandering around my body, cupping my breasts, humming in approval.

"Luc, I need to go." I whispered, nimbly slipping out of his grasp, eyes on the door.

With a groan, he backed up from the wall, hands red from the pressure and slammed the door on me as I left. "You'll regret it!" He yelled.

I scoffed, "Alright, buddy," and headed to the library, vial in one hand and letter in the other. As I rounded the corner from his room, I found myself staring at the letter in my hand. What could be so important to use security ink, I thought. Whatever it was, Ignacio trusted me with an important mission and I would not fail. I couldn't.

The torch flickering at the end of the hallway drew my attention and I looked up from the floor, tilting my head slightly. As I neared the end, I heard a heated debate and couldn't help but position myself in the dark, and eavesdrop.

"The trap is set, Claudio. Now all we must do is wait and of course, when she doesn't report back, we will know." I perked my ears towards the voice, immediately recognizing it as none other than Master Ignacio.

"Are you certain? What if she kills them all?" Another rough, husky male voice that I cannot identify, asked.

"She will not even make it past the gate, Claudio." Ignacio replied, chuckling darkly. Wait, Claudio, as in the Prince of Antiva, third talon of the House of Crows, Claudio Valisti? I had only ever heard stories about him, but here he was, talking with Ignacio. Whatever they were talking about, it was not good, especially not for this woman they were speaking of.

"You better hope so," Claudio said. "We cannot afford to have our own betray us." My heartbeat hastened, recognizing Ignacio and Claudio were talking about a Crow. They were talking about a spy, and it was clear that they had sent them on a mission that they would not return from alive.

"Hey, who's there!?" I froze at the voice, realizing that I was no longer protected by the darkness, as a bodyguard trudged their way towards my shadow, hand resting on their sword. With a pivot, I ran as fast as I had ever, away from Ignacio, away from the Crows, until I was wandering the cobblestone streets of the Boulevard of the Seas.

The vial and letter were tucked into a pouch slung over my shoulder, and I wearily walked down the turquoise street as the rain fell, first as a shower, then began down-pouring, but still, I continued down the winding street. Once I started shivering, I pushed aside my pride and made my way into one of the brothels on the street, seeking safe haven. Ignoring the proprietor of the brothel, who had followed me to my seat at a table in the far corner, I carefully unfolded the letter from my pouch and set it on the wooden table. I looked up at the proprietor, who was still talking fervently, and that was all I needed, for she excused herself immediately.

Pushing a strand of my hair out of the way, I uncorked the vial, dabbed a little of the clear liquid on a napkin and began coating the letter with it. Almost immediately, the words began to appear, at first in random spots, but then words and sentences began forming and I watched in awe as the letter revealed itself.

_C_

_An unknown client requested that a highly-trained, and expendable assassin of the Crows be sent to Skyhold, and assassinate the Herald of Andraste. We are being paid rather royally for our services so do not fail us. There will be a ship waiting by the port to take you to Ferelden. Once you reach Ferelden, speak with Cesar by the stables, and he will give you a horse. You have one month._

_-I _

I read the targets name over, almost in a trancelike state. They wanted me to kill the Herald of Andraste? I had not heard much of this Herald, but if she truly was what she claimed to be, I had a feeling that Andraste would not let her die by the hands of an assassin. And that meant that this entire mission was suicide.

Suddenly, the gears in brain clicked together. I was the assassin Claudio and Ignacio were talking about. I had to be, however little sense it made. I would never betray the Crows, but they obviously got that information from another source, and decided to act upon it, rather than allow it to fester. I remember what happened with Zevran, how he turned on his own after Rinna. I bit my lip at the memory, trying to push it away. Zevran was my mentor, and I would not speak ill of him. Whatever his reason for betraying the Crows, it was good. Maybe that was why they thought me to be a traitor, because of my fondness of him.

It wasn't like I had heard from him since he left the Crows, and I still wondered if he was even alive. The last I heard of him, he had killed Taliesen and was working with the Hero of Ferelden. I wondered, even now, what had made him, choose a woman he had only known for less than a year over the only life he had known. I wondered often why he would have left me.

I took a deep breath, and looked down at the letter, my suicide note. There was no way I could do this. I would die. I didn't want to die, not when I had so much of my life to live. If I didn't, however, they would hunt her down; kill me without hesitation, like they did with Rinna. You're certainly a wanted person, I thought.

I didn't want to think about her. Rinna wasn't a traitor, and I wasn't either. I could tell them, explain to them, and maybe they would pardon me. But I knew that wouldn't be the case. I knew they could care less about my innocence. There was a reason for this and it wasn't that I was a 'traitor'.

I was screwed. "Are you alright, miss?" I looked up at to see a man who wasn't much older than me staring down at me sympathetically. Finally conscious of the fact I had been tapping my fingers on the table; I stopped and gave the man a small smile.

"I'm fine. Thank you," I returned to the letter, trying to absorb my predicament.

The man cleared his throat, "You look very familiar. May I ask you what your name is?"

I looked up at him, furrowing her brows, "I am not in business with sharing my name to strangers, sorry."

"My apologies, I did not mean to appear rude. It's just you look very much like someone I used to know, and I was wondering if it could be." He combed his dirty blonde hair, and smiled sheepishly at me. I squinted at him, and almost jumped when I realized who it was.

"John?" He cocked his head at the name before breaking out into a low rumble of laughter.

"It really is you." He sat down beside me, grasping my hands in his across the table. "Call me Anders," he said grinning wickedly at me.

"Anders, is it?" I smirked. Too bad you'll never know _my_ real name, I thought.

"Well, one can never be too careful when being hunted by templars. You could have been a templar for all I knew!"

"Oh, yes a templar disguised as an Antivan Crow. Very original, Jo-Anders," I quipped lifting my eyebrows, and smiling, my mouth suppressing the way my lips curled up. "How have you been? I mean, since I last saw you, you were running from templars, and not doing a very good job. You know, you could just hire the Crows."

"Yes, I will hire the Crows to kill all the templars. A wonderful idea, thank you, my good woman!" Anders knitted eyebrows relaxed, and he tilted his head back, bursting into laughter.

"How are you here now?" She asked. His grin immediately faded, replaced with a more somber look, one corner of his mouth slightly pressed as he tried remaining neutral.

"I became a Grey Warden," he pursed his lips, "Apparently the Hero of Ferelden saw something in me that no one else could."

"You knew the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Yes, sadly… I do not have fond memories of the Wardens. It's why I'm here and no longer with them," he glowered. "They made me give up Ser Pounce-a-lot."

I giggled, "Ser Pounce-a-lot?"

"He was my cat!"

"But…Anders, why are you here?"

He rubbed the nape of his neck and looked up at me, "I'm kind of on the run. Have you heard what happened at Kirkwall?"

I raised an eyebrow, tapping my finger on the table by the brass mug of ale that had just arrived. I had heard rumors of an Exalted March on Kirkwall, but other than that, nothing. I had no idea why the Chantry declared so, but I hadn't bothered to care, "I can't say I have." Well, it wasn't like the Chantry would was going to go through with the Exalted March, anyways. The Divine was dead and the mage-templar war was out of their control at this point. Any hope Thedas had was in the Inquisition.

"I might have blown up the Kirkwall Chantry," he remarked.

"Oh? You might have? Did you run away before you lit the match, or are you unsure of that as well?" I lifted an eyebrow, the corners of my mouth lilted up in a smirk as I stared at him with a blank disbelieving look, as if he had just told me he was the Queen of Antiva.

"Ha-ha, very funny. Now indulge me, what are **you** doing in a brothel, alone?"

My eyebrows lowered into a frown, unsure if I should tell him. I hadn't seen him in almost nine years. Could I truly trust him? I looked up from my hand to his face, his eyes alert and wandering my own face, an eyebrow lifted in skepticism. "I'm not sure," I confessed, sliding the letter towards him, and he cocked his head, skimming the letter. It's not like you have anything to lose, I thought.

"The Crows think you will get the job done?" He scoffed unconsciously, "You know you will not, correct?"

"Yes, of course I do, Anders! They plan to kill me! I overheard them…and oh, Anders, I don't know what to do!" I felt my lower lip quiver as a tear shed from my eye, staining the table. Be strong, I remind myself.

"I might have an idea," he said. "I came here with a friend. She is captain of a ship, and I'm sure she will take you to Ferelden."

"Wait- what?" My mouth parted in desperation, "I don't want to go to Ferelden!" Ferelden had it the worst, what with the mages and templars all going rogue. It was also where the Inquisition was, which meant it was a very _very_ bad idea.

"No, no, listen. There, we will go to Skyhold and ask them for refuge. The Crows will never check there."

"Why would they let us in? You're wanted because of Kirkwall and I'm nobody!" I almost shouted, widening my eyes with fear, and catching the attention of a few patrons.

"There are bigger things to worry about than me," he stated, matter-of-factly. I shuddered at his response. It was a reminder of how much hell Thedas was in. Antiva would shortly join. I had heard rumors of the mage-templar war growing closer and closer. Antiva City would not be safe for long.

"Why do you want to help me?"

"Because we have never abandoned one in need of help," he replied, squeezing my hand in his. "Now, let's go. Isabela shouldn't be far." I nodded my head in surrender, slipped the letter back in my pouch, and followed him out the door of the brothel, as if in a daydream. Did he say we? Who's we? Oh, Caillech, what have you gotten yourself into now, I thought.

We followed the winding Boulevard of Seas, the rainwater pooling in between the indents on the street, reflecting the turquoise and sea-green tiles with every step, almost blinding me from the shimmer. I decided, as they neared the port, that I was in no mood to fight with anyone and I begged whatever gods existed to not let this be a trap. I didn't think Anders would do that to me, but after today, I could never be certain. Technically, I should have learned that lesson long ago.

"Isabela? Hello?" Anders yelled, trying to conceal a grin with no avail. We had walked up the plank on the ship and were eyeing a very promiscuous woman; Rivain, or maybe even Antivan, I think to myself, judging from her apparel, or lack thereof.

"Now, now, I thought the agreement we made was I take you far away from Orlais and you leave me alone."

He cleared his throat rather loudly, and whispered to me, "I probably should have mentioned we're more like acquaintances. She hates my guts."

I rolled my eyes. Of course, I think, but rather than fleeing I stood my ground. "Miss, I – we would like safe passage from Antiva to Ferelden."

"Anders, why would you want to go back?"

"I owe this woman my life," he replied. Isabela pursed her lips in frustration, but signaled to one of her men to take us to the lower deck.

We followed the man without hesitation, glancing at each other with worry. I didn't trust this, but then again, I was trained to trust no one.

_Trust no one, my dear, not even those closest to you, I remember. _

As the man showed Anders to his room, and then me, to my own room, I heard the pounding of feet – four or five and heard slight yelling, then silence. I shook my head, crossing it off as just exhaustion. I had used more of my energy today than I was used to, keeping Anders away. I sat down on the edge of my cot, legs dangling off the edge, and took a deep breath. Never in a thousand years could I have imagined this situation. Here, I was about to travel to a foreign land, away from the only life I had known. Yet, the corners of my lips lilted into a small smile. You're alive, I thought, and that's all that matters. Zevran had taught me to live in the moment, take what you can and never expect any more. I had always lived that way, but now, I found myself wondering what not being with the Crows would mean.

Would I truly be free, or would I always be hunted? That, I decided, would be told with time. My head fell back, and I sighed, loudly. Anders said that they could take refuge with the person I was supposed to kill. What would happen if they didn't believe me, or worse, the Crows came knocking on their door? I shuddered at the thought, pushing it to the back of my mind.

I was alive right now, and as for the future, I did not know what it would bring me. I jumped at the soft rap on my door, collecting my emotions, "Come in."

The door creaked open, and the captain, Isabela, waltzed in, eyes widening and a smirk falling across my face. The captain tucked a loose strand of her brown hair behind her ear and leaned against the wall beside the door. "The Crows just came knocking. Said they were looking for a woman matching your very description. Care to elaborate?"

"I worked for the Crows. Now, I seek refuge to start anew," I answered. It was the half-truth, but I didn't feel she needed to know anymore. It was bad enough I had told Anders.

"Ah, I knew man like that once. Changed his colors completely, and for the better, I suppose." Her hazel eyes danced playfully as if she was remembering a pleasant memory. "Just don't cause any trouble and we'll get along plenty," she pivoted, leaving me alone once more.

Once the door to my cabin closed, I let go of the breath I wasn't aware I was holding. My head drooped, and I yawned, rubbing my eyes. I hadn't realized how tired I truly was until I sat down on the cot. I unlaced my boots, tossed them by my bed, and snuggled my way under the fleece blanket, allowing my eyes to droop until I was no longer conscious and fast asleep as the ship swayed to the rhythm of the waves.


	2. Wicked Grace

I clutched the bucket tighter to my chest, heaving up my dinner from the previous night. Maker, if I got off this ship, I was never going on another. Isabela said it would only be one more day until they docked, but I didn't think I could do it. "Oh, Maker," I groaned, retching once more. Three rat-infested weeks at sea and I couldn't handle another day. I didn't think I would ever be this happy to walk on firm ground, but now, it's all I wanted.

"You look like shit," I glanced up as Anders walked in my cabin in the hold, eyes widening at the view of me clutching a bucket for dear life before he burst out in laughter.

"You know, Anders, this is of one of my good days," I pushed my hair back and puked into the bucket, "And here I thought I did my hair perfect so you would notice," I said, earning a snigger from him in response.

"Well, now that you feel better, care to join us for a game of Wicked Grace? I have to kick Isabela's ass or she's going to kick mine. Quite literally," He knelt in front of me, eyes widening sympathetically, "I could lessen the nausea, if you wish."

"No, thank you, Anders," she looked up at him, wiping her mouth with her forearm, "but getting out of my cabin for a game of cards sounds good. Let me just-" I heaved again into the bucket, "well, now that that's out of the way. Where shall I meet you folk? I think I might clean up first- bad taste and all." I scrunched up my nose to enunciate my disgust.

"In the Captain's cabin, of course," he replied shuffling towards the door. "We will see you there?" I nodded my head in response as the man I had grown fond of disappears above deck.

I didn't regret leaving the Crows, not that there was much room for regret now. There was no going back, but there were times when my mind drifted to the House of Crows, specifically to Luc. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my stomach as the ship jerked violently. I didn't know how Isabela could do this, but I admired the woman. She had gall. My hand searched for the metal handle on the bucket, and gripped it, standing up from the cot once my feet were firm on the ground. Moping around won't get you anywhere, I thought. So, I dragged the bucket and myself into the hold, up the hatch leading to the main deck, where I strolled towards the edge, fighting the urge to vomit as the crashing waves made me dizzy. I dumped the contents overboard, and tossed the bucket onto a pile of fishing net, hoping that I wouldn't need it later. My hands searched for the letter, finding it tucked in my pouch, as always, and I sighed, relieved. The last thing I needed was someone stealing that letter from me. Right on cue, my stomach growled and I realized I had skipped breakfast. I returned to the hold, leaning my hands on the walls and poles for support as the ship creaked and wavered. Once I reached my cabin, I collapsed on the cot, staring up at the ceiling, the wood panels creaking as the cook worked above me. I had grown accustomed to listening to him work and it almost became a soothing noise to me. Of course, besides the fact when he cut off a chicken's head once, that ended up with me being awake for hours.

With support from my hands, I moved on the cot until I was sitting up. I bended down, and reached under the cot for my boots. I deftly slid them over her feet, and began fastening them, humming an old lullaby. A lullaby I couldn't quite place but felt as familiar as the Crows. As soon as I had tied them, I raced up the hatchway, towards the scullery. I waved to Mouse, in his usual spot by the corner of the room. I had never actually learned any of their names, I realized, so I took to making nicknames for all of them. Mouse, was, nicknamed for his affinity with cheese.

Cook greeted me as soon as he looked up from his chopping vegetables, and passed a plate of food my way, and my stomach lurched at the sight of it. After thinking on it, I pushed the plate back. One more day of this, Caillech, and then you can eat real food, I thought.

With nothing better to do, I made my way towards the Captain's cabin, wondering if they had begun the game yet. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard laughter and cussing as I pressed the door open and found Isabela and Anders leaning against their chairs, chatting audaciously. Her first mate, Casavir was passed out on the table, with crude drawings on his forehead.

"Oh, there she is!" Anders exclaimed as I sat down beside him, patting my back 'gently'. "We thought you weren't going to show!"

"To be precise, you didn't think she would show," Isabela stated, glaring matter-of-factly at Anders. "So, tell me how the Siren's Call II is_treating you?" She winked at Anders. _

_"__You named the ship… Really Isabela? Oh, Skyler will kill you," he grumbled, scratching his head in irritation. _

_I cocked my head, "Who is Skyler?"_

_Isabela scoffed, "Really? Is that an actual question? Skyler Hawke? She's the Champion of Kirkwall and Anders here was her bed warmer."_

_Anders groaned, slamming the palm of his hand into his forehead. "I can't believe you just said that."_

_"__Wait, was? What does was mean?" _

_"__It means that when he decided it was fine to blow up a Chantry with hundreds of innocent people, he screwed up. She couldn't kill him, so she just told him to go." I glanced up at Anders who looked like he wanted to shoot us with lightning. Isabela drew a card, exclaiming in excitement, "Oh, that's the angel of death!" For a moment, we ignored the previous conversation and showed their cards. "Looks like I win," Isabela smirked. "I have the Angels of Fortitude, Truth, Faith, Charity, and Death. Another game, undefeated."_

_"__Hey, that's not fair!" Anders whined. "I'm cutting the cards this time," he declared, snatching the deck out of Isabela's hand. "Are you going to join us?" He lifted an eyebrow as he turned to me._

_"__Why not?" He dealt the five cards to Isabela and him, dealing me in, and smirked at his hand. _

_"__So I'm curious, Anders. If Hawke wants nothing to do with you, what makes you think she'll vouch for us when we get to Skyhold?"_

_"__You're planning on going to Hawke? You have a death wish, Anders." Isabela kicked Casavir, who jumped up from the seat, nearly taking the table with him, "Oh, morning Casavir… so nice of to join us."_

_"__Sorry, captain," Casavir grumbled, rubbing his eyes groggily. _

_"__Will you just trust me, Caillech? I'll get us in," he said, loosening up his ponytail. Now that I looked at him, his eyebrows drooped; I truly saw how devastated he was that Hawke had left. It was not very hard to put one and one together._

_"__Hey, it'll be okay," I said, patting his back sympathetically. _

_"__We're nearing the port, Captain!" I startled, twisting my head as Casavir stood up and began barking orders to the rest of the crew._

_"__Ah and here is the Angel of Death. Let's compare," she put down her cards and I smirked, showing my own. "Well, that blighted- Crows," she scoffed, standing up from her seat and marching out of the cabin._

_"__Looks like her streak has come to an end," Anders sneered, pushing back the chair and stretching. _

_My own stomach turned over and I clutched it tightly. "I am never going on a ship ever again," I admitted, and Anders laughed._

_"__That, I may have to agree on, but fortune seems to favor us today. It seems we are going to dock earlier than expected," he leaned back, stretching. "I should get back to packing. I have to find Ser-Pounce-a-lot _II. I have a feeling he's found his way into the larder, with the mice and such." He groaned regretfully, and pushed back his chair, and I followed shortly after, not really needing to pack much as I left all of it back in Antiva. I had been too worried returning would raise suspicion so I left with the things I had. I decided to sharpen the daggers I kept stashed underneath my cot. They were the only items I brought with me, as one could never be too careful, especially as an assassin and I figured I should prepare for a surprise visit from the Crows or the supposed safe haven in the Inquisition ending up in bloodshed. After thinking the latter through, I decided I would rather surrender than risk being killed by the Inquisition; after all, good guys never die, at least not at the hands of assassins.

I really hoped Hawke wouldn't turn them back, but most of that would be Anders fault. He did say he could get them safely into Skyhold. Maybe I could explain it to them and they would allow me to stay, but I couldn't do that. I owed Anders a lot and I wouldn't just abandon him like that.

Instead of staying in my cabin to sharpen the daggers, I wound up heading back to the main deck and leaning on a barrel, eyes narrowing as sparks flew off of her silverite dagger. I frowned, noticing that the edges were starting to fold too much. Who could she go to see to get them reshaped? I didn't want to get new daggers; they were a gift from Zevran.

"You're strangely well-prepared for an assassin. Most I know couldn't find their target if it was right under the nose," Isabela walked towards her, her long strides accenting her toned legs, with a playful smile directed towards the assassin.

"Ah, and you must know many assassins. Anders told me an assassin killed your husband." I retorted, sheathing my dagger and tucking away the steel into my knapsack.

"My husband took an assassins' blade to the back of the skull. And before you start jumping to conclusions, no, I didn't hire the assassin. I did thank him profusely, however." She sighed wistfully, "Ah, Zevran. He was an artist."

"Wait, you knew Zevran? Zevran Arainai?" My eyebrows lifted ever-so-slightly as I looked up at the captain. "He was my mentor… I had thought he died."

"No, no. I saw him in Denerim with the Hero of Ferelden, say ten years ago? He was quite taken with the woman. I saw him with the Champion a few years ago, too. He was… different."

"Different how?" I inquired, straightening myself.

"He fell in love with the Warden-Commander." Isabela said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Zevran had fallen in love? But it was he who told me never to let emotions like those come into play. He was the one to tell me an assassin took pleasures where they could find them and nothing more. After Rinna, I had thought he had learned that lesson most of all. "Of course, Merrill and he ended up sharing stories of her for hours and I became quite bored."

"Merrill?"

"Ah, the Hero of Ferelden was Dalish and belonged to Merrill's clan."

This was news. I was sure that he had perished when he left the Crows. I realized, now, how stupid the idea was. It was Zevran. He didn't simply die. Of all the missions he had told me of, it was a silly thing to think of, but I hadn't heard from him in so long. "That is, nice to hear."

"I assumed he would return to the Crows. Or at least fight his way back," Isabela shrugged and leaned over the railing, breathing in the salty air. "When I saw him again in the Free Marches, he was already fighting his way through with a Master Ignacio. Of course, the bastard disappeared before he could kill him."

"Of course he would…" I mumbled. That didn't shock her. Ignacio was a coward..

The ship creaked and Isabela jumped up from her position, patting my shoulder. "Ferelden, home of the dog lords," she snickered and headed towards the other end of the ship, barking orders at one of her crewmates to prepare the plank.

"I do not miss the smell," Anders jested, holding up a cranky cat. "I found him. He was in the larder, like I said."

"I've never been to Orlais. My parents were born there." I shrugged, "I never got the chance to meet them."

"That's… I'm sorry," Anders muttered, maneuvering the tabby into his bag.

I perked up, pushing away emotions I refused to feel. "Well, let's get a move on." I began walking towards the dock, my gait confident and sure, but inside I felt broken and lost. I turned my head around as Anders jogged up to me, to keep a steady pace with me. "Do you know where this Skyhold is?"

"It's in the Frostback Mountains, that I know, a little ways off from Haven. I'm sure we couldn't miss it."

I rolled my eyes, realizing they could be going to their deaths. "I'm sure if we ask, someone would give us directions. Do we have provisions?" At the question, Anders groaned and I wanted to smack him upside the head for being so reckless. "Oh, better question! Do you plan on us lasting more than a week?" Isabela's first mate, Casavir extended a hand, "I might have horses for us," I said, taking his hand and stepping onto the dock, almost falling down with wobbly knees and ecstatic sighs. "I don't think I've ever been this happy," I confessed. Anders followed afterwards and laughed watching the elven assassin kiss the dock repeatedly.

"You have some odd ideas about happiness," Anders replied, spinning around as he heard a soft thud behind him.

"And you're going to leave me like that? Pity," Isabela winked at me and slapped Anders on the back, "Stay out of trouble, Anders." Anders helped me back up on my feet, and we waved to Isabela. "Keep that voice in your head out of trouble too!"

"Maker, Isabela," Anders muttered, following me towards the muddy dirt. I took a deep breath, and suddenly regretted it.

"It smells like garbage," I said, wrinkling my nose in disgust. "I don't like it." I trudged on, cursing under my breath as the mud clung to my boots. Not only did it smell bad, but it was cold and I wasn't used to the cold. At least in Antiva, it was always mild, never too hot, and never too cold.

"Caillech?" I nearly jumped, and Anders gently guided her towards the voice. "I admit I did not expect you to come." I cocked my head, peering at the elven man in front of me.

Blonde hair, brown eyes, a constant cocky smile, was that Zevran? "Andraste's tits, it's you!" I exhaled and embraced him tightly, grinning from ear to ear. Anders cleared his throat awkwardly, and I pulled away, still grinning like an idiot. "Zevran, this is Anders. Anders, meet Zevran," I stepped back as they shook hands, Anders towering over Zevran, mostly to assert dominance but Zevran did not notice, or did not care. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"An old friend of mine had intercepted letters between Ignacio and Claudio, speaking of you. Once I deciphered when you would be arriving, I had to come warn you." He nodded to Anders, "It seems you have figured it out already. You were never as dumb as you played," he said, chuckling. "I wish I could offer my assistance, but I have to meet my Warden in a few days' time. I did, however, manage to procure a horse for you." He gestured towards the reins in his hand, and a black stallion behind him, "As for the mage, you were told in the letter you could get a horse from Cesar. I would try that, no?"

My jaw was loose, mouth hanging, staring in awe. This was Zevran? Wow, ten years had really changed him, I thought. When I realized I was staring, I snapped out of it, "Thank you Zev."

"I would do anything for you, Caillech," he responded, handing the reins to the horse to her. He gripped my hand once more as I took the reins and mounted onto his own horse. "Stay away from the roads, stick to the less traveled ones. It would do no good if you died. I owe you that much, no?"

He really had changed, and I thought, for a brief moment, that it was for the better. I gripped the reins in my hand, and scratched the horse's snout, "We should get going," I said, turning sharply, eyes searching the landscape for a man fitting the letter's description. My eyes flitted back to Zevran as his figure disappeared into the woods. As my eyes wandered towards the docks, they locked with the man I was looking for. I shoved the reins in Anders hands, "Stay here." And I marched over to the man.

"Ah, miss, I cannot help you," he said, his hands retreating towards his belt, most likely to get a firm grip on his dagger.

"Don't even try," I leered, swatting at his hand. I reached for my own dagger; making it known that I knew what I was doing. "Are you Cesar?"

"You must be Caillech. I am sorry, one can never be too careful in times like these," he said, relaxing his shoulders, exhaling. "I am supposed to give you supplies, no? The horse is in the stables by the inn, attached to its saddle is a pouch containing gold, food and a map."

You're such an idiot, I thought, of course they would give me a map. "Okay, great!" I grasped the man's hand in a firm, but quick handshake and ran back to Anders. "We're all set," and without thinking I grabbed Anders hand and was dragging him over to the stables. "This is the horse you'll be riding," I stated as a chestnut mare came into view, its head down as it presumably chewed on some hay. I took the reins from Anders hands and tied it to the pole right outside the stables. With a swift movement, I had plucked the map from the pouch on the other horse and began studying it intently. "Alright, well it looks like we're good to go," I motioned to the map and supplies. "If you prefer, we can stay at the inn for the night, or we can leave now."

"I think we both need a good night's rest," Anders said, and she nodded in agreement, fumbling in the pouch for a few gold coins.

"But we're leaving at sunrise," I responded, pivoting out the stables, trekking in the puddles towards the inn. I waltzed in, noticing that the place was practically abandoned save for the innkeeper.

"Can I help you?" He asked, hands palm down on the counter as he studied me up and down.

"Yes, I need two rooms," I answered, dropping a few gold coins on the counter beside his hands.

The man whisked away the gold coins and in return dropped a pair of keys in my hand. "Return 'em to me in the 'morrow," he mumbled, turning his back to me as he began counting the coins.

I gestured for Anders to join me by the counter, and he trekked towards me, head down. I cocked my head slightly at his slow, obscure movement. "What are you doing?" I whispered harshly as he approached the counter.

"Trying not to be seen," he muttered under his breath. "We'll be mugged and left for dead if I'm recognized."

I grinned mischievously at his worries, "You're with me. You have nothing to worry about." I dropped one of the keys in his palm and pried his fingers around the key. "Here. Now go get some sleep," He began trudging up the stairs, making every movement seem as painful as the last.

"Liven up!" I shouted as I marched the opposite way down the hall, towards my own room. As soon as I was locked in the room, I took a deep breath, tore off my boots and tossed them at the wall.

This would be an interesting trip, I thought.


	3. Little Durgen'len

We would have reached Skyhold within a week, but giving Anders the map was not a good idea. We ended up going the wrong way for quite a while and it wasn't until I realized we were headed for the Storm Coast, that we turned around, after we both argued on the correct direction, of course.

Then, we took to the less traveled roads, like Zev had said, for a fortnight. The two of us were unstoppable against any foes we came across, but Anders refused to fight any mages, until one of them almost killed me while I was busy fighting off a sell sword that had gained on me. It was after that, that he realized the mages were only power hungry. I noticed how quiet he was and I decided that it was because, according to him, he had done this. He said it was his entire fault, but I tried to persuade him out of it. They left the Chantry- he didn't make them. If he truly was a catalyst, he just sped up the inevitable. But of course, he didn't listen to a single word I was saying, regardless of how true it was. I wished I could have told him that he could trust me, tell him why, but that would only lead to trouble so I didn't.

I glided my dagger out of a bear that had barreled towards them, the rush of the battle fading as I looked up, in awe.

"Skyhold," Anders said, mimicking with words what I was feeling. Miles away, but still visible, was Skyhold. I hadn't expected it to be as magnificent when I looked upon it, but I found myself unable to look away, mesmerized.

"It's beautiful," I said, smearing the blood from my daggers on my breeches, and sheathed them. It was then, as I returned my gaze to the fortress, that I noticed it was quite the climb from where they were. With a groan, I found a tree, barren as it was, and plopped myself against its trunk. "I need to rest if we're going to do that," I said, lifting my eyebrows towards Skyhold.

"And I think Ser-Pounce-a-lot II needs to stretch. As do I," he chuckled, squatting in the snow to unlatch his bag and let out his cat. I shook my head, watching how his eyes widened playfully as he rubbed the cat's belly.

"I think you spoil the cat," I retorted.

"Maybe… but someone has to," he looked up at me, softly smiling.

I rolled my eyes, repositioning myself until I was kneeling under the tree. It was going to get cold fast, and I needed to collect kindling for a fire. "Do you need any help?" Anders asked, crouching beside me. We both reached out for a branch tucked under a pile of leaves and I retracted my hand almost immediately at the touch, blushing furiously. I turned away from him, and began piling the branches that I had set aside in my arms hurriedly and walked towards the opening, where Ser-Pounce-a-lot II was swatting frantically at a bug, or very possibly, the air.

"It's going to get cold. I'd rather have a fire going now than waking up in the middle of the night because of the temperature."

"That sounds like a good idea," Anders retorted, tossing his pile of branches beside the makeshift fire pit I had begun to assemble. "I'll go find some better kindling. Come on, Ser Pounce-a-lot II," he whistled for the distracted tabby's attention and began his trek into the forest. As soon as he was out of sight, she let go of a breath that she hadn't known she was holding.

When I first met Anders, the two of them had their fun, and it was nothing more than that, but seeing him now, he was a different man. He was more withdrawn, serious, and he seemed to… brood a lot. It was intriguing and it only increased my attraction to him, as ill-advised as it was. I knew he found me attractive, but he would never do anything with me, not anymore. He was in love with Hawke, and by all means, she was better than me. From what I gathered, she was smart, witty, gorgeous **and** the Champion of Kirkwall.

Who was I to compete?

Not that I really wanted to compete; I just wanted to have some fun, as bad as it sounded. Love was something in fairy tales and my life by far, was nothing short of a fairytale. I was an assassin and had slept with my fair share of men- and woman- to get what I wanted, or rather, needed. I had always known that a happy ending was not in the cards for me, but it no longer bothered me as it once did. Those were dreams of a child, nothing more. Now, I wanted revenge. I wanted to right the wrongs of the Crows. I needed to wait, however, until they were no longer actively searching for me.

My slender, acute ears perked up at the rustle of leaves and I twisted my head, hand flying to my daggers, a sigh of relief escaping my lips when it was only Anders who reappeared. "Oh, thank the Maker."

He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow, "Think I was a bandit? Or worse, a rogue mage?" He slanted his eyes at the accusations.

"I'm sure I could handle either of those," I quipped, gesturing towards the fire. "Now do you mind starting this thing? It's freezing."

"As you wish, my lady," he said. I found myself impatiently hovering over his shoulder as he clasped his hands together, rubbing them in firm concentration. "You know, it might work better if you weren't hovering over my shoulder like that."

"Couldn't you just use magic?" I asked, not that I entirely wanted him to. I had dealt with the magic when they were being attacked because it was…helpful.

"Couldn't you just disappear?" He retorted and I backed away. Point taken, I thought. I distracted myself with setting up the tents.

When he finally spoke up, he scared me so much I almost drove a stake right through my foot. "What happened?" I froze trying to assess his question. What happened to us, I thought, or what happened just now?

"I-I don't think I understand," I stumbled over my words. Maker, I hate when I stumble over my words, I thought. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and the tip of my ears tinting pink in embarrassment.

"You hair is white. What happened?"

Oh…that's what he meant. I realized that he hadn't even brought it up to me until now. Maybe he didn't want to around the others? "I was accompanying a Crow on a mission a few years back. Our target was a mage." I could hear him inhale sharply, could feel the daggers in my back and I knew that he was trying to compose himself, but I didn't stop. "She managed to hit me with an ice spell, and well, my hair turned white. I asked the healer when we returned. She said she had no idea, but that the important thing was that I was fine." Another lie, another at arm's length, I thought.

"You killed a mage," was all he said, gritting his teeth and she swore that his eyes glowed fluorescently blue, like he was…possessed.

"It wasn't as if she was innocent, Anders. No one truly is. She killed innocent boys and girls for no reason other than her vanity!"

"And you believed what the Crows said? You allowed them to twist you into a puppet!" I dropped the stake in my hand when he spoke, when it spoke. This was not Anders. And she turned around so fast she feared she would trip over her own two feet as she came face to face with him; except, he was glowing. "You are no better than the templars." There was a mixture of emotion in his face, but whoever was there was not Anders. I gripped my daggers, readying myself if he should attack.

"You aren't Anders," I replied softly. Maker, is he possessed?

"I am Anders," it replied and I groaned, frustrated. This was not happening. This was _so _not happening.

"Anders, knock it off. You're scaring me." I said, loosening my grip on the daggers, putting my hands up in the air in defeat. "I don't want to hurt you." And like he had just woken up from a nightmare, he stepped back into the tree. He had stopped glowing, but his eyes still shone rather brightly. He looked up at me, mortified.

"I-I'm sorry." And he disappeared into the woods, leaving me as confused as ever. Still shaking, I finished setting up the tent, and took to sleeping outside by the fire. The stars were especially pretty tonight, I thought, as they sparkled and glimmered, dancing across the sky. It wasn't helping. All I could remember was those haunting eyes and shivered in response. And then he just disappeared, and I wasn't even sure if he was going to come back.

He had to, right? He couldn't leave me on my own. Without him I couldn't get into Skyhold. Andraste, this is crazy, I thought. Being betrayed by the Crows and seeking safe haven in an organization where I was to assassinate its leader? They were going to find out, I thought. They'll find out everything.

Hesitantly, I turned over to my side, and closed my eyes. I could wait for Anders to return, if he ever did, and I would be in better shape rested than not.

I was probably right. And so I fell asleep, not even sure how long I slept until my eyes flickered open, the sun slowly peaking over the horizon, red, purple and orange painting the sky.

I didn't even realize that I was awake until harsh, cold water was thrown at my face and I let out a piercing scream.

"Good morning, sunshine." Out of my peripheral vision, was a dwarf smirking down at me, trying to hold back a laugh. I sat up from the mossy ground, a strong ache in my shoulder, which I tried to unknot with my fingers.

"I'm- where's Anders!?" Immediately, his face fell into a frown and he turned away from me as another pair of feet entered my vision. I glanced up at a beautiful woman- goddess? The dwarf and the woman were arguing amicably between each other, but I couldn't make out about what. All I could think of was how tired and cold I was. A shiver ran down my spine, as I interrupted their conversation. "Will someone please tell me what in Andraste's name is going on!?"

The woman turned to me, face pulled into a frown. "Anders was with you? Where is he?" She knelt down, gripping my shirt. "Tell me!"

"Maker, Hawke. No need to scare the kid," the dwarf pulled the woman off of me, and extended a hand. I gripped it, pulling myself up from the ground, shivering. If this woman was Hawke that meant that I was screwed in the worst possible way. I couldn't even begin to explain my predicament, let alone why I was with Anders. "What she's trying to ask is: Is Anders still with you?"

"That's what I said, Varric." Hawke muttered, glaring angrily at me still. "What are you doing out here?"

"Caillech!?" I heard a worried shout followed by a loud, exasperated sigh and I watched Hawke's eyes widen, in fear, happiness? I couldn't tell.

I whipped my head around as Anders entered the clearing, stopping abruptly when he saw the two figures standing beside me. "Hey Anders," I replied meekly, waving to him, still shivering from the cold.

"So, this your new pet, Anders?" Hawke asked irritably, grabbing me by the collar once more, nails slightly digging into my collarbone.

I was begging to Andraste, the gods, anyone, that Hawke wouldn't kill me out of a fit of jealousy before we could explain. "Let her go, Skyler. You and I both know this isn't about her," Anders said.

The dwarf, Varric muttered aside to me, "She's usually a very upbeat person. She's just a little cranky right now." I scoffed. That's an understatement, I thought.

"Then you won't mind if I just kill her?" All three pairs of eyes widened at Hawke's statement.

"Hawke…" Varric began, but was cut short as a flash of lightning whipped so fast across the two of them, barely missing, grazing my cheek. Okay, it's official, fuck magic, I thought. Hawke's grip on me loosened enough for me to wiggle my way out from between the two of them, towards Varric. By his side, I turned to watch the feud unravel before her eyes, certain that it would end in one of them killing the other.

Hawke's staff hand was charred and bleeding, but it didn't stop her from reaching for her own staff as Anders readied to shoot another bolt at her, "For the love of Andraste, stop!" I had stepped in between the two, rather boldly, glaring daggers at both of them. She was tired, wet, and pissed. "Whatever the fuck you did to each other, stop acting like little children and talk about it!"

"Like he talked about the Chantry?" Hawke scoffed.

Varric stepped in beside her, hands up in defense, "The girl's right. How about we return to Skyhold and share a pint?" Praise the Maker for the dwarf because I was certain that Hawke wouldn't have hesitated to kill me if he hadn't also stepped in.

It worked, I thought, even though I had to listen to her grumble and complain about me most of the way up. Andraste's tit, was she that blind that she couldn't see how much Anders still loved her? Even I wasn't that ignorant to not see affection when it was there, and while I had forgotten how it felt, I remembered those lingering looks. "Now when we get to Skyhold, you two," Varric glared pointedly at Hawke and Anders, "are going to the tavern while our new friend and I go find the Inquisitor." My eyes widened at the mention of the Herald. Too many thoughts raced across my mind, and I became so lost in thought, I didn't see the large qunari in front of me until it was too late and I had stumbled right into him, balancing myself on him. I quickly yanked my hands away when I realized they were on his pelvis, and awkwardly mumbled an apology.

The qunari grumbled, glaring at Varric. "Who's the new stray, dwarf?"

"She's a friend of Hawke's," he winked at her slyly. "Her name is…" He cursed, "Shit. We didn't get to introductions, did we?"

"Uh, I don't-"

"The name's Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." He bowed rather extravagantly, ignoring the snickering from the qunari behind her.

"Aren't you good for anything else, dwarf?"

"Well, there is the spy network," he replied smoothly. "But as much as I enjoy talking about me, I am rather curious about you." He turned to look at me, an eyebrow lifted with interest.

"My name's Caillech," I answered, hoping, no, begging that they wouldn't ask her why I came to Skyhold; that they would sum it up as just another pilgrim. Anyhow, I had gathered that Varric didn't care for Anders so much. It had to be because of the Chantry, and maybe a little to do with Hawke. I agreed that Anders was an idiot, but he wasn't an arse like others I've meant.

"And what's brought you here? Pilgrimage?" The qunari asked looking at me with far too much interest. If I wasn't trained as I was, I would have just assumed that he was being friendly, but I knew better. He was finding my weaknesses, trying to ascertain the truth in how I dressed, how I acted, how I responded to certain queues.

"I seek safe haven," I said, slipping part of the truth, knowing lying would get me nowhere. When he cocked his head slightly, I continued, "From people who wish me dead."

"I'm sure the Inquisitor will be intrigued." Shit, I thought. He knows something's up.

"Well, let's go find Her Inquisitorialness. I'm sure she would be interested in hearing how we found you two in the woods by Skyhold." Varric motioned towards the stairs, and I began walking, not noticing that he had stopped to bicker with the qunari. When I reached the stairs to the courtyard, I paused taking in the breathtaking sight. It was like nothing I had ever laid eyes on. Realizing that I had no idea where to go from here, I looked around for Varric, glancing back at the stairs as he came jogging up.

"Sorry about that," he offered an apologetic smile. "The Inquisitor should be right up these stairs," he gestured to a grand staircase that winded a bit up to a giant hall, which I could only assume was Skyhold itself. Varric began walking ahead, chatting avidly about the Inquisition and all I could do was follow, dumbstruck, and try to keep my jaw from hanging open. I had seen posters - propaganda – of the Inquisition, but I hadn't expected it to live up to expectations.

I had gotten to Skyhold, I thought. I was actually here, and it meant that I was one step closer to freedom. "Freedom," I muttered, the word sounding foreign on my tongue. All I had ever known was my duty to others, never to myself. I didn't know what to do with freedom when it was so close.

"…with as many weapons as you can carry to Tevinter." We approached a throne, watching- intrigued as the guards were carrying away a strange-looking man who was laughing hysterically. What an odd thing to do, laugh during your sentencing. "Another?" The woman – who I could only assume was the Inquisitor - groaned, "Josephine, I told you to deal with as many prisoners as you can, leaving the bare minimum to me."

"Inquisitor, this is not-"

"Hey, shiny! She's not a prisoner. She's a pilgrim with a fascinating story you have to hear!" He gave me a nudge towards the throne and I only stumbled forward, falling to my knees.

The Inquisitor chuckled, leaning her elbow on the arm of the throne, "I'm sure she does, Varric, but I don't have time. I have to meet the advisors in the war room." She could feel the Inquisitor's mana – it enveloped most of the room - that was how confident she was.

"You're still talking," Varric grinned, striding up to stand beside me. "Anyhow, she can tell you right here."

It was my turn to glare at the dwarf. I wasn't one to share information about myself, especially in front a crowd of people, which was growing larger by the minute. "I can tell you what you need to know," she heard a voice loud and clear ring out from behind them. I turned to see Hawke stride in, followed by an anxious Anders who was trying to keep up with her, muttering a string curses. Hawke waved a letter in the air and I immediately froze, recognizing the stamp on it.

"Hawke, stop it!" Anders yelled, and their little scene drew more people, as others joined the hall, watching it unfold.

It was the letter Ignacio gave me.

"Anders, stop talking. You and I are going to talk about this later." She snapped, smoothing out the letter and extending it to the Inquisitor.

"What is this?" The Inquisitor frowned snatching the letter out of Hawke's hand. I glanced around frantically, trying to find somewhere I could escape, but there was nowhere to go.

"This, is your dear pilgrim," Hawke spat, staring at her with disgust.

"Varric, were you aware of this?" The Inquisitor asked, motioning for her guards to seize me. The dwarf shook his head in shock as she handed him the letter to read over, "and what about you, mage?"

I saw Hawke scowl at him and he meekly shook his head, mouthing to her his apologies. "I was not, Inquisitor."

"Lock her up, gentlemen." I scratched and kicked, but the guards were too strong for me.

"Anders, tell them!" I shouted, but my pleas weren't heard as they carried me away to the dungeons.


	4. Lady Trevelyan

If they heard my pleas, they did nothing. Of course, that was expected. I had been thrown in here for being part of an assassination plot, and even though I hadn't journeyed to Skyhold for that reason, the letter proved otherwise.

I replayed that day over and over. Maybe if I had told them, this wouldn't have happened. Maybe if I had just turned around, went back to the Crows. Right now, it wasn't like the latter was better than where I was now. I was in the dungeons, huddled in a corner because they hadn't finished reconstructing the cells, and part of my cell was blown apart into rubble. I wasn't sure what it was from, but all I knew was that if I fell, I would definitely be dead. Perhaps that was what they were waiting for.

I was pissed, to say the least. I understood his motives, but couldn't believe Anders had sold me out because of Hawke. That woman was infuriating. If I ever got out of here, I would give that woman a piece of my mind. I rolled my eyes, thinking twice about that. I was positive that I would get my ass kicked by her. The woman was almost as hot-headed as Luc was.

My stomach rumbled, and I clutched it in pain. It had been a week since I had food that didn't consist of moldy bread and murky water. I knew I was lucky enough to be given food, but I wished more than anything for someone to interrogate me. I had no loyalties anymore. I would gladly give up the Crows and any other information at the expense of my freedom.

"Bull, will you just restrain her for me? I am going to interrogate her, not you. Or Cassandra," I heard snickering and scrambled towards the cell door, trying to peek around the corner, dangerously close to the edge. When my foot nearly slipped off the floor, I retreated, figuring that if they were here for me, I would see them soon enough.

"Whatever you say, boss." The qunari I had met earlier, followed by two women, one I recognized as the Inquisitor, came to a halt in front of my cell. The qunari opened the cell door, it creaking from its lack of use, and gripped me by the sleeve. "Let's go." All I could do was meekly nod in agreement and allow him to drag me out of the cell, back towards the hall.

"Take her to my chambers, will you Bull?" The Inquisitor gestured towards a door left of the throne, and the qunari grumbled, cursing in a tongue foreign to me.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" The other woman asked in a Nevarran accent, frowning, folding her arms across her chest.

"If the Ben-Hassrath is any indication, Boss knows what she's doing." The qunari snorted, adjusting his grip on the elf, earning a pained yelp from her.

"I've got it under control, Cassandra." The Inquisitor said, rolling her eyes at the qunari's comment.

The other woman's lips curled downwards, as she sighed disgustedly before disappearing into another room ignoring the attempted suppressed laughter from the Inquisitor. "Come on, elf." He pushed me forward, and I had no choice but to stumble across the hall, trying to balance myself so I didn't topple over from the force.

Once they entered the room, the Inquisitor waved off the qunari, "I'm good, Bull." The qunari remained where he was, loosening his grip on my sleeve.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Boss."

"Bull, I'm fine. I've dealt with assassins before." With a flick of her hand, a lightning spark emanated from her fingers, and I flinched. .

"Fine, but I'm not leaving. I'll stay down here, if you need me you just holler, okay?" The qunari leaned against the door, resting his hands behind his head as the Inquisitor motioned for me to follow her upstairs.

"Tell me more about you," She walked across the room, grabbing documents on her desk before leaning on it.

If I seemed dumbfounded, the Inquisitor did not notice. When they said interrogate, I didn't expect this. I expected to be tied up, tortured. Not an idle, friendly conversation. So when I finally spoke, I stumbled with my words. "I- um, I'm-"

"Let's start with introductions," the Inquisitor said, looking, smiling sympathetically at me. "Nathalie Trevelyan." That was it. She didn't address her titles, or her heritage, only her name. "And you are?"

I blinked a few times, eyes widening at the realization that she was asking me a question. "My name is Caillech," I said, quickly adding in "your worship," hoping not to offend.

She dismissed me with a wave of her hand, "Please don't say such foolishness." She sighed, "It is not a title I wear proudly." She massaged her temple, sighing. "Do you not have a last name?" She asked, scribbling madly on the document in her hand eventually crumbling it up and throwing it behind her.

I shifted on my feet uncomfortably. I didn't have a last name, at least not anymore. "I don't have one." I admitted.

"Interesting," she scribbled something else down. "And you work for the Crows," The Inquisitor stated matter-of-factly.

"Did," I corrected.

"Did what?" She cocked her head slightly, pushing a strand of red hair behind her ear.

"I did work for the Crows. I no longer am employed by them." I said, smiling sheepishly. This would be interesting.

"So you traveled to Skyhold to assassinate me on a personal vendetta?"

"I- no! No, I came seeking refuge." I responded a bit too hastily, which caused the Inquisitor to bite back a laugh. I had absolutely no idea what was going on and that perhaps startled me more than the certainty of punishment for my crimes.

"You came seeking refuge with the woman you were supposed to murder? Now, this I have to hear." She smirked, clasping her hands together in genuine amusement.

"It is… more complicated than that, I fear." I muttered, shocked when the Inquisitor strode up to her, slamming me into the bedpost. This was what I expected, but it still came as a surprise to me; probably because the Inquisitor was enigmatic- definitely charming and knew her way with words.

"If you want to live, I suggest talking now," she demanded, gritting her together, but failing at hiding a smirk.

"Everything okay, boss?" The qunari shouted from the bottom of the stairs, loudly shuffling around gawkily on the floor.

She pulled away, spinning her head towards the stairs, "just getting to know the prisoner, bull." She shouted back, calming him enough for the footsteps to cease. She returned her harsh, yet amused gaze back to me, and loosened her grip, "Sorry. If they all thought I was soft, I would never get anything done."

I felt embarrassed. I hadn't thought the Inquisitor was joking, and turned my head to the side, trying to hide my own disappointment. "They wanted me dead."

"Who wanted you dead: The Crows? Why would they want to kill one of their own?" She inquired, stepping back, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, hands resting on her hips. So many questions, I thought.

"They wanted me dead because they heard I betrayed them," I said, taking a deep breath, still shaking from the sudden exertion. Before the Inquisitor could respond, I continued, "I didn't, however. I don't know if they truly thought I did, or they were trying to make an example of me."

"And what point would that be?" She retorted, fingers anxiously tapping the bedpost beside her.

"I don't know. Some stupid fucked shit, if I know the Crows." I swore silently to myself. They needed to remind us that we were expendable. What better way than to kill their most promising Crow?

"And I'm supposed to believe that you didn't come here to assassinate me," she waved the letter in front of my face, "when I have proof that refutes everything you said?"

"I thought they wanted me dead because I betrayed them…" I muttered, the shock evident in my facial features as the Inquisitor bit her lip, eyes widening in empathy.

"I can't kill you," she admitted. She chuckled softly, nervously twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "It'd be like killing me."

I cocked her head, eyebrows lowered in confusion at the statement. "What?"

"You and I are so alike. Both forced into things we had no choice in. You think I wanted this; to be Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor? They're titles that frighten me, not just the Chantry. I can't live up to them. I'm a mage. I belong locked up in a Circle according to the Chantry. I should serve man, not rule over them according to the Chant, yet here I am, doing the exact opposite." She laughed, melodic and soft, "Listen to me. I'm venting to an assassin, my assassin." She rubbed her temple lobes, shaking her head.

I didn't think about it. The Inquisitor had shared something personal with me, and she felt entitled to do the same, although it was more of a white lie than the truth. "This is the first time in almost ten years that I've been able to make my own decisions and I've already screwed that up." I laughed bitterly. "I came here seeking refuge, thinking to myself: Why would they check the one place I wouldn't go? They know, though. Even able to make my own decisions, they will always know what I'll do."

The Inquisitor walked took my hand in hers and gripped it lightly. There was pain etched in the grip as if holding onto me would make the truth seem less harsh. "I can't let you go, either."

I chuckled darkly, "If you let me go, I'd find myself with a dagger plunged in my chest, or worse, leading myself right back to the Crows."

"Just tell me one thing," the Inquisitor began. "Who wants me dead?"

"You're the Inquisitor. I was hoping you would know. After all, you have plenty of enemies," I said, pulling away from her.

The Inquisitor laughed, "I guess I do." The laugh lines disappeared almost immediately, her lips curling downward in seriousness. "I think I know what we can do. Follow me," she said, and I did as she directed. We walked past the qunari, noticing the baffled looked on his face, out towards the throne room and across the hall, swinging the door open.

"Where are we?" I asked, as we stepped down the stairs, greeted by a grumpy man, and a dwarf who looked way too happy to be here. They were both surrounded by metals, stones, and benches for crafting what appeared to be weapons and armor. I followed the sound of water until my eyes met a breathtaking waterfall.

"Caillech, meet Harrit, our blacksmith, and Dagna, our arcanist," the Inquisitor shifted her head from me to Harrit and Dagna. Harrit grunted, muttering a hello before disappearing and Dagna hurriedly gripped my hand, shaking it excitedly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, grinning.

"This is the undercroft," she explained. "It's where we craft armor, weapons, you name it. As it happens, we have enough materials for new armor and weapons." She gestured towards the crafting tables, "Do you have a preference?"

"It depends on your men," I replied, perplexed. Why would the Inquisitor come down here to ask me my opinion?  
"No, my dear, these are for you." She said, laughing lightly, handing over a set of armor, plopping dual-wield daggers on top.

"Inquisitor…"

"Meet me in the war room after you've changed?" All I could was nod my head as the Inquisitor headed towards the throne room, turning around one last time, "Also, please call me Nathalie."

I stood, dumbfounded, holding the armor and daggers in my hands, uncertain. Two months ago, this would have surprised me. I never would have expected it. Now, it seemed that this would be my new norm. I still wasn't sure what to make of the Inquisitor. I didn't expect her to be as nice as she was.

I was afraid of how the Inquisition and its allies would respond to her change of heart towards the assassin. I quickly dismissed the thoughts, deciding that whatever Nathalie had planned, she had taken all consequences into play. At least, I hoped that she had. I almost dropped the armor and weapons in my hands when Dagna began dragging me away from the door, towards the center of the room. "Her Worship asked me to set up a dressing screen for you, given the circumstances."

My eyes wandered to a beautiful oak wood dressing screen, emblems of the Inquisition displayed on the outside. "Did she say anything else?"

"No, but that's okay. She's good with this stuff- always has been!" Dagna gave me a light push behind the screen and disappeared, shouting about how she designed the weapons herself, and seemed very excited in that prospect.

While the armor was newly crafted, it was the same as any other. It came on and came off the same way. I took to slipping her arms through the sleeves of the arming doublet, sighing contently at the soft touch of silk. With one quick tug, my worn breeches came down to my ankles and I shimmied out of them, the cold breeze immediately setting goose bumps to my skin. Still shivering, I barely managed to slip on the padded breeches without tripping over my own two feet. Once I had finally managed to pull on the maille shirt and tug on her old boots, I sheathed the new daggers, grabbing the old ones, and walked out from behind the screen, feeling rather confident. Dagna was waiting by the door, looking rather excited as I walked towards her.

"So? How does it feel!? Great, right?" She grinned, "I knew it!"

"I-uh, I…" I trailed off, unsure of what to say. Dagna was too perky for me, given that maybe she was too perky for many people. I held my old daggers up lamely. "Is there any way you can reshape these?"

Her eyes fell to the daggers, but before she could respond a rather bristled man swept them from me. "Harrit would be the man for the job," she chuckled. Harrit was the blacksmith. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. That was embarrassing.

I stepped away from the two, heading towards the door, "I-I should g-go." I opened the door and began my ascent up the stairs, towards the Great Hall.

I was half-expecting someone to shout and tackle me, but that probably would have given me too much credit. I doubted they, like myself, expected the Inquisitor to be lenient, and I doubted any of them would have even recognized me. They probably only knew me as 'another elven assassin'. I still didn't understand the ulterior motive, but figured it would reveal itself sooner or later. I stood about, uncertain. A realization hit me that might have been important to bring up earlier. I had assumed that it would be somewhere off of the throne room, but all the doors were identical and I didn't want to go around like an idiot stumbling through each and every door, **hoping** it was the one I wanted.

I glanced around nervously, and immediately perked up when I saw Varric at the other end of the hall, and walked towards him, grinning a bit too widely when my eyes met his, "Varric!" He averted his eyes at the sudden greeting and turned away from me. As I approached, his back was still facing me as it looked like he was scrambling to gather his belongings, "Varric?" I muttered, tapping the dwarf on his shoulder, but he stepped away, looking back at me with sympathy.

"I'm sure Chuckles can help you," he offered, gesturing towards the door beside me, and disappeared from the throne room, leaving me alone and confused.

Still dazed, I decided that Chuckles might be my best bet. Probably not his real name, I thought, smirking. There wasn't a door to the room, but I decided to knock anyhow. "Hello?" I asked, peeking in as a man was pacing back and forth, clearly frustrated. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep doing that," I said, catching him off-guard as he abruptly stopped, looking up curiously, my eyes meeting his own striking blue eyes. The second thing I noticed were his ears, which like mine. Chuckles was, coincidentally, an elf as well.

"And who might you be?" Oh my, I thought. In all my travels, I had never heard a voice like that. Honeyed, firm, yet gentle, and if I let myself, I probably could have just stood there listening to his voice. "Are you alright?"

I widened my eyes, blushing, embarrassed by the realization that I had been staring. "I-I'm sorry," I stammered, forcing myself to look away from him. "I-I'm a- kind of lost."

"Ah, Tarasyl'an Te'las…" The man began, but I was still processing the elven, or at least, what I assumed was elven. I hadn't thought the man was Dalish, what without the tattoos, and became self-conscious immediately.

This was my culture. Or history, a voice chimed in the back of my mind. Regardless, this beautiful, mysterious man in front of me was probably scorning me for all I represented. The stories I heard while in the Denerim Alienage, spoke of how we was one of The People who had forgotten everything, forced from the true path. For the longest time, I hadn't thought the Dalish existed, not until Zevran told the story of his father and mother. To me, they had always been bedtime stories, sometimes to scare her, and sometimes to help me sleep at night.

"…abandoned for years, until now," I looked up sheepishly, pretending that I had been listening, but the man took no notice in whether or not I had. "How may I help you?"

"I, uh, I'm looking for the War Room," I admitted, rubbing the nape of my neck awkwardly.

"You must be new, then." he said, motioning for me to follow him. I nodded my head, and walked in stride beside him, waiting for him to speak again, and prepared to listen this time. He stopped in front of the door, and began to walk away.

"It was nice meeting you," I shout to him, gathering the attention of onlookers. He turned around, and smiled – but oh, that smile melted me.

I cleared my throat, realizing I had acted very unlike myself, and with a deep breath, pushed the door open into the room, pleading to the Maker that the Inquisitor had informed this Josephine, as it seemed like she was an important person.

"… impossible!" I heard someone sigh exasperatedly as I stepped into the room noticing a very well-dressed woman sitting at the desk, writing madly. She didn't appear to notice me come in, so I cleared her throat rather loudly, and the woman looked up, blinking a few times in confusion before a look of recognition fixed on her face, "Come with me." And the woman pushed back her chair, stood up and walked to the other door, pushing it open slightly. "Are you coming?" She asked, turning around as I stood still, taking in the question. "Oh, I'm sorry." She sighed once more clearly frustrated. "Where are my manners? Josephine Montilyet, ambassador of the Inquisition. How do you do?"

"It's fine, really." I said, blushing. "I'm not used to pleasantries." That was the half-truth. I wasn't used to pleasantries anymore. I was an assassin. I gestured for the door, "I think its best we head in now."

And with that, I followed Miss Montilyet into the corridor, which according to the ambassador, who was definitely Antivan, was where the War Room was located.

As soon as the double doors were flung open, the talking ceased, and all eyes fell on me, as I fidgeted with my fingernails, trying to ease my discomfort. My eyes meet with a familiar figure, the Inquisitor, and I breathe a sigh of relief, suddenly not feeling so alone, "Your Worship."

"Please, Caillech. Call me Nathalie." The Inquisitor smiled briefly at me and then looked back to a buff, handsome blonde man who seemed very cross at the moment. "Cullen, stop pouting. It doesn't suit you." She glanced towards me and back towards the man, "Cullen," she looks pointedly at a red-head next, "Leliana. Meet Caillech, our newest addition to the Inquisition's forces. Cullen is Commander of the Inquisition. A title that he deserves," I waved weakly at the man, noticing he was blushing. "Leliana is our spymaster."

"Tactfully put, Inquisitor." The woman replied, and I immediately notice the heavy Orlesian accent. Interesting, I think to myself.

A quiet yelp escaped his lips, and I noticed he was trying to bend down to rub his knee, glaring at the Inquisitor, "Pleased to meet you."

She turned her gaze to the ambassador, "And it seems you have already met the lovely Josephine." With a quick flourish, she slammed the palms of her hands on the war table, still smiling.

"This isn't a good idea," Leliana muttered, clearly irate.

"Of course it is!" The Inquisitor laughed heartily, the heat in her cheeks rising, turning them pink. "One could always use more assassins." She hesitated, eyes falling to the table, as if she were upset. "I will not execute her, exile her, or anything of the sort, and if you have an issue with that, then take your leave." She tilted her head towards the spymaster, "She will be working closely with you, until something comes to mind." Wait, she thought, she doesn't have a plan?

"Understood," Leliana said, skulking out of the room, walking right past me. She gripped my wrist tightly, but subtly, and whispered harshly, "I'll be watching you."

"Ah, don't mind her!" The Inquisitor said, clasping her hands together. "It will be fun!" She returned to the table, looking up only once to shoo Caillech off. "Leliana is in the library. It's the first door on the right when you're walking in. Get some rest. I'm sure there's a bed you can use in the undercroft for now. Dagna wouldn't mind."

Somehow, I thought, this would not be fun, not even the slightest.

And with that, I left the room, unsure of my motives, but feeling grateful for being alive. Following her advice, I returned to the undercroft, confused as to why I even bothered with the armor, and took to unstrapping it, placed it by the cot Dagna had retrieved for her, and closed her eyes, pulling up the wool blanket, still feeling my toes curl from the cold.

"Miss?" A perky voice interrupted my thoughts, and I sighed, recognizing the voice almost immediately.

"Hello, Dagna." I said groggily, not bothering to sit up, eyes still closed as I contemplated just turning over and falling back to sleep.

"I have a question, if you don't mind." I grimaced. Of course _she _had a question, I thought.

"Ask away," I said, sitting up, finally, to face the arcanist. The red-headed dwarf smiled cheekily at me.

After a few moments of silence, she cleared her throat. "Your hair, has it always been the color of snow?"

I took a deep breath, biting my lip. I shouldn't be surprised, not really. I had expected this to come up much earlier, especially considering that the Inqui – Nathalie was a mage. "It used to be a rich brown…" I said, combing my fingers through my hair. Every now and then looking at myself in the mirror would give me quite a startle. Two years since the incident and I still hadn't gotten used to the vibrant white hair that I now donned. My hair having changed color was a big factor in why I always wore it up. The hair isn't the only you still haven't gotten used to, I remind myself.

"Do you mind if I ask how it happened?" Dagna inquired, looking in awe at her hair.

Yes, I thought, I do mind. I decided to give her the same answer I had given Anders. "A few years ago, the Crows were contracted to assassinate a mage – don't really remember the details," I said. That part was true; I really had forgotten the reason for the assassination. "The mage had managed to hit me with an ice spell. My hair turned white."

Dagna tried to hold back her enthusiasm, but failed, once again. It seems the arcane enamored the poor dwarf. "That is strange…" she said. Looking at Dagna, it was clear she was trying to theorize how it had happened.

I decided to break her thought, afraid she would figure it out. "The healer didn't know, and as far as it concerned me, I was fine." I lied. That, I thought, I will take to my grave. Among other things, I reminded myself.

Dagna nodded, clearly disappointed. "I should… get back to work." She said, although it was clear it was just an excuse to leave.

I knew I should be thankful, but I couldn't help but wonder if this would have an unforeseen consequence in the future. Right now, however, my years of training was screaming that I be grateful for being alive. I buried myself in the blanket, however scratchy it was, and closed my eyes. The cot was a bit firm, but it was better than sleeping on the ground, like I had been for the past week. I let out a fatigued sigh. It was still early, but exhaustion had settled in and who was I to refuse?


End file.
